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by irrevocably-johnlocked (AurielleDawn)



Series: First Times [5]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Back at Baker Street, Finally, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-17
Updated: 2014-02-17
Packaged: 2018-01-12 18:23:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1194978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AurielleDawn/pseuds/irrevocably-johnlocked
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John muses about the moment since their first time, and he and Sherlock finally get to go back to Baker Street.</p><p>***</p><p>I let him pull away then, and he paced a little.  “John, I couldn’t possibly—How am I supposed to sleep?”  He ran his hands through is hair, and I knew the problem.  Too much going on in his head.  In the past I would have sedated him, but we didn’t have enough hours of down time for that.  But I had an idea, a theory.</p>
            </blockquote>





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**Author's Note:**

> So this entire fic is PWP, but this section is the most gratuitously fuck-you-plot-this-is-about-love-and-connection. You have been warned. Further warning for gratuitous use of fandom headcanon. 
> 
> This section will be chaptered. I'm intending it to be bits and pieces of their first days at Baker Street as a couple. (Note that I'm calling this complete for now.)
> 
> Sorry I've been slow on this one. Lots going on.

We’d been touching a bit more even before that first night together, looking at one another differently, the knowledge of our feelings and that first kiss between us. There’s something fierce in it, knowing you’re loved in return. Something that burned away our hesitations and the distance between us, even as we held ourselves separate, kept up the charade of my marriage. 

But after that night, it changed again. Of course it did. The grimness of it was gone, even in the midst of a war, of being constantly on the run. Even having no time for intimacy, intimacy was somehow still there. Mycroft saw it immediately, the prat. Something in the way we looked at one another. 

We were in his office the following morning, discussing the Mary situation, next moves, implications. We were sitting in separate chairs, not touching, just glancing at each other, and he suddenly raised his eyebrows, sat back and said, “I take it congratulations are in order.” 

I braced for a snarky rejoinder but made the mistake of catching Sherlock’s eye, and suddenly we were both laughing, giggling really, doubled over with it. When I recovered enough to look back at Mycroft, he was smiling slightly, and I swear to God there was warmth in his eyes, looking at his little brother. He was carefully expressionless by the time Sherlock looked up. 

When the meeting was over, Sherlock was out the door first, and Mycroft’s voice stopped me. “John.” I glanced back at him, and he held my gaze, inclining his head slightly. “Take care of him for me.” 

And I nodded. “Always.” 

It seems everyone’s just been waiting for this moment, for us to figure it out. I should be angry about that or something, but I just feel…relieved. Lestrade, for example, was there a few days ago when Sherlock had an epiphany, a real key element in the case. I’d said something inane, of course, which had sparked his thought process just so, and suddenly everything had snapped into place. He’d rattled off his conclusions, Greg sending people scurrying. 

And then Sherlock had looked back at me with utter triumph on his face and swooped down to snog the living shit out of me, making my knees weak and triggering a fervent response I couldn’t have stopped if I’d tried. Then he’d released me, turned and run out the door, yelling directions as he went. 

I glanced at Greg, whose mouth was hanging open. Then a huge grin split his face, and he’d said, “S’about bloody time!” I’d just smiled at him and shook my head, running out the door after my insane partner-cum-whatever the hell we are now. 

***

I’ve been catching fragments of sleep curled up in chairs and across benches, waking bleary-eyed to an aching shoulder, while Sherlock just kept moving. On his fifth day with no sleep, we had another chance at a real bed for a few hours. He told me to get some rest, that I needed it, with clearly no intention of joining me. 

I grabbed him by the collar, made him look at me. His eyes were bloodshot. “ _You_ need it. We _both_ do. You can’t just stay awake until this thing is over. You can spare a few hours.” 

He just stared at me a moment, then dropped his gaze. When he finally answered, his voice was barely above a whisper. “I want this over, John. I want it done. I want to go _home_.” He looked at me then, raw emotion in his eyes, and his words all in a rush. “I want to bicker over my experiments in the kitchen and look up from playing the violin to see _you sitting in your chair_. I want to wake up next to you and move your things into my room and let Angelo bring us a damn candle and really be on a _date_. I need to finish this so we can go _home_.”

I’d huffed out a laugh at the candle bit, around the lump in my throat, thinking about how ecstatic Angelo will be. He’s never _stopped_ bringing us candles. I stepped into Sherlock and took his face in my hands, resisting when he tried to pull away. He wasn’t in a mood to be coddled, and I was quickly learning that there are times Sherlock wants to be touched and times he doesn’t. But this was important, so I made him stay, made him look at me. “Oh, Jesus, love. I know. I want that, too. God, I want it.” I pulled him in, and he let me, resting his forehead against mine and closing his eyes. “But I need you standing at the end of this. I need you in one piece. You _need to get some rest_.” 

I let him pull away then, and he paced a little. “John, I couldn’t possibly—How am I supposed to _sleep_?” He ran his hands through is hair, and I knew the problem. Too much going on in his head. In the past I would have sedated him, but we didn’t have enough hours of down time for that. But I had an idea, a theory.

I stopped him in mid-stride with a hand on his forearm, made him look at me, his eyes a little wild. “Let me help.” He just shook his head, not understanding. So I stepped in and raised my other hand to the nape of his neck, running my fingers up the back of his head and tugging at his hair. His head dropped back slightly and his eyes closed. “Let me help,” I said again, softly. 

And this time he let me lead him to the bed and remove his clothes. He was still stiff when I tugged him down into the bed, settling onto my back and pulling his head onto my shoulder. I ran both my hands into his hair, kneading his scalp, and he sighed, relaxing slightly. It didn’t take long, really, to have him fully relaxed and breathing evenly. And I sent up a little prayer of thanks to whatever forces had brought us together, because apparently I’ve been given a superpower. And I intend to make good use of it. 

***

And now, finally, _finally_ we are headed home. The war is over. This one, anyway. The East Wind has blown, and we’re the ones left standing. A little worse for wear, but whole. And that’s all I could ask for. It’s more than enough. We’re in one of Mycroft’s cars, on our way back to the flat. Mycroft is still on cleanup duty, but Sherlock and I have been released from service. For the moment.

Sherlock is looking pretty smug right now, texting out final comments, making notes on his phone. This has been quite a coup for him, and he’s buzzing with it, both of us keyed up and still charged with adrenaline. How many times have we been in the back of a cab like this, on our way home after a case, and I’ve had to dig my nails into my palms to keep from touching him? He looks up to catch me staring and gives me a wicked grin, and I can feel something dark and full of promise spread across my face. 

His pupils blow wide and he swallows, staring at my mouth as he takes his bottom lip between his teeth. I grab his coat collar with one hand and his scarf with the other and pull him to me, diving into him, as his arms wrap around me. Eventually I surface enough to realize the car has stopped. 

I break the kiss and we stare at each other a moment, breath racing just a bit. When we’ve exited the car, Sherlock takes my hand and tugs me toward the door. He glances back at me, and we both grin a bit awkwardly at the novelty of it. When we walk through the door, Mrs. Hudson pops out of her flat and says, “Oh, boys! I’m so glad you’re back. I was really starting to—“ 

Her eyes widen a bit at our joined hands, and she breaks out in a huge smile as Sherlock pulls me up the stairs. “No time to chat, Mrs. Hudson. And no clients for a few days. John and I are going to be having loads of sex.” I chortle out a startled laugh, feeling my face heat up, and he looks back at me and chuckles, not breaking his stride. 

Mrs. Hudson’s voice follows us up the stairs. “John! Aren’t you still married?”

“Uh…Not really Mrs. Hudson,” I yell over my shoulder. “I’ll explain later.” 

When we reach the landing, I punch him in the arm, and he melodramatically clutches the spot and says, “Ow!” Glaring at me reproachfully, as he pulls me into the flat. “You know, I never once saw you punch any of your girlfriends.”

“They didn’t deserve it like you.” This earns me a smirk and an eye roll. 

He releases me to pull off his coat and scarf, tossing them at the couch, and I follow suit. Then he closes the door and sits back against it, resting on his hands, palms flat against the door. This pulls his shoulders back, so his white shirt and suit jacket are straining against his chest, and he tilts his head down to look out at me from under his hair, a cocky grin on his lips, his eyes sparkling. And he’s breathtaking. Gorgeous. And he looks carefree, younger. It reminds me of the first time I saw him, and how badly I wanted him, immediately, and every moment since, even when he was dead. Especially when he was dead. _Five years._

His smile softens. “What are you thinking?”

The corner of my mouth tugs up. “That you’re beautiful and I’ve wanted you for so long.” 

He laughs softly, that sexy smile back on his face. He pushes away from the door, slowly closing the distance between us, holding my eyes. And when he stops in front of me, I tangle a hand in his hair and pull him down. This kiss is slower, exploratory. I brush my lips against his and tilt my head slightly before pressing into him, tongues barely brushing, tasting that fire I can’t get enough of. 

When I break the kiss, his lips follow mine, and I smile, pushing him back slightly, releasing my hold on his hair. 

He opens his eyes, and I look up at him and whisper, “I _desperately_ need a shower.” 

He scrunches up his face in consideration and nods, “Yeah, me too. And I fully intend to burn this entire outfit.” 

I nod in return, “Yeah, definitely.” 

Then a thought hits me, and I point at him. “But not in the flat. We don’t need you burning the place down right as I’m moving back in.” 

He looks slightly affronted, raising his eyebrows and crossing his arms over his chest. “Really, John. I’m hardly going to _burn down_ the flat.” I just look at him and he throws his hands in the air. “That was _one time_ , John. It was a simple miscalculation—“ 

He makes to storm off toward the kitchen, and I grab his arm, pulling him back to me, as I lean up to capture his mouth. He’s still willing and pliant, his arms going around me as I run my tongue lightly across his lips. He groans slightly, and I pull away and whisper, “How could I not have realized _years_ ago that this was the way to shut you up?” 

He glares at me and tries to pull away, but I yank him in and nip his lower lip. “Shower. Now.” I use my best pulling rank voice, and he grins in response. 

“Yes, Captain.” 

Then he saunters away, unsnapping his buttons while he walks, and I realize as he turns the corner that I’ve just been standing there, staring at his arse. 

Well, who could possibly blame me? I head after him, pulling my jumper over my head and kicking off my shoes as I go.

**Author's Note:**

> I've decided to call this series complete for now. Much love to everyone who has commented and enjoyed it.


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